


Switch Hit

by Magicofisis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-04
Updated: 2006-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicofisis/pseuds/Magicofisis
Summary: A break-up with Hermione leaves Ron free to play the field – any way he wants.





	Switch Hit

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Dedicated to my lovely friend [](http://shocolate.livejournal.com/profile)[**shocolate**](http://shocolate.livejournal.com/), who gave everyone a scare this week with her mysterious disappearance. Glad you’re feeling better, love. Silly song reference compliments of Lerner & Lowe: I heard A Hymn to Him the other day and this bunny was hatched, so I tried to sneak in a bit. Betaed by the beautiful Kate who rocks my world.  


* * *

Harry was late as he ran up the stairs to the flat he shared with Ron. They had Quidditch tickets tonight, and he’d have only just enough time for a quick change of clothes if they wanted to make it to Falmouth in time to see the Snitch being released.

His heart sank as he pushed open his front door. The room was pitch black; Ron must have left without him. Well, it was his own damn fault for stopping to talk to Seamus on his way out the door. He hoped Ron had left a ticket behind so he could get into the match to meet him.

Just as he turned toward the bedrooms, he heard a faint snuffle coming from the armchair in the corner of the lounge. Whirling around, his eyes could barely make out Ron’s form slouching in the chair.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, slightly unnerved.

Ron snorted. “Fuckin’ peachy. Never been better in my entire goddamn pathetic excuse for a life.”

Harry moved towards him. “I’ll take that as a no. So what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harry knelt down on the floor next to the chair. “Come on, Ron. You look like you just lost your best friend, but I’m still here. So it must mean… Hermione?”

Ron’s shoulders drooped even lower when Harry said her name. “A fuckin’ letter, Harry. She couldn’t even bring herself to face me when she,” Ron swallowed hard, “dumped me.”

The crumpled parchment was clutched in Ron’s hand, but when Harry reached for it, Ron let him take it. Harry silently lit the tip of his wand to read it.

_Dear Ron ~_

_I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started this letter, and how difficult it is to find the words that I feel I must say. I know you’ve tried very hard to be a good boyfriend, and that I haven’t always been the easiest girl to date, but I’ve known in my heart for some time that things weren’t working out between us…._

 

The letter continued in that vein for nearly half a roll – Hermione never having been short of words, despite the difficulty she claimed she had in finding them. Harry wasn’t the least bit surprised – when he spoke with his other friends about Ron and Hermione, the term “train-wreck” was usually involved. Still, he didn’t figure that bringing up the inevitability of the situation was in Ron’s best interest at the moment; then again, neither was wallowing in self-pity.

“I’m really sorry about this, Ron. Maybe she’s angry with you about something and she’ll ask you to take her back tomorrow.” Harry highly doubted this, but it seemed like the right thing to say to a best mate who’d just been dumped.

Ron started to laugh – low at first, but then it grew into a loud guffaw. “Yeah, right, Harry. She’ll beg me to come back as soon as she realizes that without me, she doesn’t have anything to complain about. Except then she’d have to admit she was wrong, which isn’t going to happen in a million years.”

Harry was more than a little bit relieved to hear that Ron wasn’t holding out any false hope – he’d never admit it, but he knew Ron was right. “If it’s well and truly over, then there’s no point sitting around here and feeling sorry for yourself. Let’s go to the Cannons match and then find somewhere to get thoroughly pissed.”

“I don’t know, Harry,” sighed Ron.

“And we’ll wear face paint and funny hats and we’ll act like we’re twelve. Hermione hates it when we do that.”

As expected, this brought a smile to Ron’s face. “And we’ll sing, loud and badly. And get drunk in public. She hates that, too.”

“And we’ll wolf-whistle at pretty witches,” said Harry smugly.

“I thought you weren’t into girls?”

Harry shrugged. “I can still think they’re pretty, even though I don’t want to shag them.”

“All right, I’ll go.” Ron glanced down at his watch, visible only by Harry’s faint wandlight. “Damn. We’d better skip the face paint and head right to the match. We’ve probably already missed the opening Quaffle release. Are they playing at home?”

“No, Falmouth.” Harry summoned the tickets and caught them as they flew towards him.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that Ron might not be able to focus well enough to get to Falmouth without splinching himself. So he grabbed Ron’s arm, saying “Mate, why don’t I Apparate both of us so that we don’t lose each other in the crowd?” Without waiting for Ron’s approval, they were gone.

~*~*~

Ron whooped on his way down the stairs, stopping every now and then to burst into an off-key rendition of the Cannon’s Fight Song. Harry wasn’t nearly drunk enough to join in, but it was good to see that Ron was expressing his emotions in a more or less respectable fashion. Who would have thought the Cannons could actually pull out a win? Shocking as it was, Harry was nonetheless pleased because it had improved Ron’s mood considerably.

“Where to now?” shouted Harry over the crowd noise.

“I don’t know,” replied Ron. “Hinkypunks? They have two-for-one drinks until midnight, so it won’t cost you as much to get me drunk.”

Harry laughed. “Who says I’m buying?”

“Me. I know you feel sorry for me. Besides, I don’t get paid until tomorrow.”

“Fair enough,” agreed Harry with a nod.

When they got to the pub, they quickly found a table and ordered firewhisky. A few Galleons convinced the barman to leave the bottle.

Before Harry finished paying for the firewhisky, Ron had emptied his glass and was reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. Harry couldn’t blame him – it was obvious that the only reason he had left the flat was to prove a point. Harry had been dumped before, and it hurt. A lot. And he hadn’t dated that bloke nearly as long as Ron and Hermione had been together.

“I wonder why she had to do it now?” asked Ron. “I mean, she could have done it ages ago.”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe she thought you’d break up with her.”

“Nah, we all remember the Lavender thing.” He guzzled the rest of his firewhisky as Harry picked up the bottle to pour himself another and set his empty glass next to Harry’s in a silent request for a refill.

“I have to admit that I don’t understand very much about women,” said Harry.

“Women are irrational – that’s all there is to that!”

Harry believed it more likely that Hermione’s problem was in being just a little bit too logical, rather than irrational, but he wasn’t about to stop Ron when he was on a rampage. “Perhaps,” he said noncommittally.

“Yeah,” said Ron, encouraged. “Their heads are full of cotton, hay and rags!”

“Hermione?” questioned Harry, staring in disbelief. No, it had to be the alcohol talking.

“Oh, yeah, Hermione,” Ron said, with a nod. “She’s just like all the other women, no matter how much she’s tried to make you believe she’s different. They're nothing but exasperating, irritating, vacillating, calculating, agitating, maddening and infuriating hags!”

Harry couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Ron, why don’t you tell me what you really think?”

Ron was having trouble getting the firewhisky into the glass, so Harry took the bottle from him and refilled their glasses.

Neither of them spoke for almost a minute, and then Ron suddenly blurted out, “Harry, why can’t a woman be more like a man?”

“Hmmm?”

“Yes, why can’t a woman be more like a man?” Ron sat up straighter in his chair, gazing at Harry earnestly. “Men are so honest, so thoroughly square; eternally noble, historically fair. Who, when you win, will always give your back a pat. Well, why can't a woman be like that?”

“You’re preaching to the choir, my friend. Why do you think I prefer wizards? I don’t understand how the female mind works. Well, that and I don’t really like the girl bits.”

“I’m starting to see the appeal, Harry. But why _can't_ a woman take after a man?  
Men are so pleasant, so easy to please. Whenever you are with them, you're always at ease. Would you be slighted if I didn't speak for hours?”

“Of course not,” said Harry.

“Would you be livid if I had a drink or two?” Ron giggled. “Or, um, ten?”

“Nonsense. I’d join you.”

“Would you be wounded if I never sent you flowers?”

“Never,” answered Harry. “Actually, I’d be a bit worried if you _did_ send me flowers.”

“Well, why can't a woman be like you?”

Harry was just about to answer Ron’s absurd question when he glanced up and saw Terry Boot making his way over to them. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Terry had been trying to ask him out forever and had almost got to the point of stalking Harry. He did not want to deal with Terry and the row that would undoubtedly arise if he turned him down again.

“Ron, I need a favor,” he hissed. “Do you trust me?”

“’Course, Harry. Anything.”

Terry was about six feet away when Harry leaned over to Ron, kissing him as long and as passionately as he thought his mate would allow. All the while, he was thinking, “Please don’t hit me,” although he was unsure whether that thought was directed towards Ron or Terry. When he finally ran out of breath, Harry pulled away from Ron and glanced across the table to where Terry was standing with his mouth hanging open.

“Hey, Terry,” he said quietly.

“Harry… I, er, was just going to say hello, but I see that you’re a bit busy,” Terry said.

“Yeah, another time would be better,” said Harry with a nod. He looked back at Ron, who was also gaping at him. Slowly, a smile crept across Ron’s face.

“Harry, that was brilliant! Let’s do it again.” Ron’s pupils were almost completely dilated, although Harry couldn’t tell whether it was caused by lust or alcohol.

“No, Ron, we’re in the middle of a pub. And I was just trying to get Terry Boot to leave me alo—”

Ron interrupted by kissing him again. This time, when Harry pulled away, there were several patrons staring at them, some amused, but several disapproving. Harry turned beet red.

“They’re staring at us,” murmured Harry.

“Of course they are,” said Ron matter-of-factly. “You’re Harry Potter. People always stare at you. I thought you were used to it by now.”

“And I think you’ve had more than enough to drink. Come on – let’s find the floo and get out of here.” Harry tried to muster some dignity as he stood, but he was fairly pissed and trying to help Ron walk was proving to be a challenge.

The barkeep motioned them to the fireplace and helped Ron to floo back to the flat. Harry followed moments later.

With his usual grace, Harry was more or less expelled from the fireplace, landing on something lumpy that cursed when he struck it. Oh, right. Ron.

“Good,” mumbled Ron. “Now that you’re here, we can snog some more.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Harry, standing up and offering Ron a hand to do the same. “You’re drunk, you’re hurting from the break-up, you’re straight…”

“You’re really sexy,” interrupted Ron, dismissing Harry’s arguments. He tried to kiss Harry again, but Harry dragged him down the hall to the bathroom.

“I think there’s a hangover potion in here,” muttered Harry as he rummaged through the cupboard. His hand emerged clutching a small bottle filled with a pink liquid, and he set it on the counter.

“Harry, if you don’t mind, I have to pee,” said Ron. Harry left the room, calling for Ron to take the potion when he was finished.

Harry changed into pyjamas, all the while fretting about what Ron had said. He didn’t want Ron to feel rejected, but he didn’t see how any good could come of being ‘friends with benefits.’ For one thing, Ron was almost certainly straight, and for another, Harry’d had a crush on him for as long as he could remember.

After a few minutes, Harry went back into the hallway and met Ron coming out of the bathroom. A quick glance over Ron’s shoulder told Harry that Ron had attempted, at least, to clean his teeth, as there were blobs of toothpaste all over the sink where he’d missed the brush. The bottle of potion was empty.

Harry tried not to laugh. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Harry saw that Ron had left his wand behind, so he used it to clean up the mess in the bathroom before readying himself for bed. He decided against a hangover potion for himself, since the buzz from the alcohol felt good, and he didn’t think he’d feel too bad in the morning.

He didn’t really need the potion, though, because when Harry returned to his room, he sobered up instantly. Ron was lying on his bed, naked and aroused.

Harry swallowed hard. “Er, Ron? Your bedroom is across the hall.”

“Well-spotted, Harry. And your bedroom is here. Glad we’ve got that cleared up.” Ron continued to grin, and for a long while, Harry was speechless.

“I thought we decided it wasn’t a good idea,” ventured Harry finally.

Ron shook his head. “No, you decided that. I’m here to change your mind.” With that, Ron wrapped his hand around his erection and began to stroke it ever so slowly.

As hard as Harry tried, he couldn’t make his eyes focus on Ron’s face. They kept dropping to Ron’s cock, and then when he did look up again, Ron would wantonly bite his lip. It didn’t take long until Harry was as hard a rock, and without stopping to think, he climbed onto the bed.

“Didn’t you know that you should never wank in front of a gay man?” asked Harry breathlessly as he wrapped his hand on top of the hand holding Ron’s cock and they moved in unison.

“No. What will happen?”

“He might not be able to resist you. He might start doing things to you that straight blokes don’t usually like.” Harry kissed Ron again, feeling an almost magnetic attraction to him.

Ron broke the kiss, saying, “It’s not like I’ve never thought about doing this with you.”

“You have?” asked Harry, locking his green eyes on Ron’s blue ones.

“Gods, yes. Hundreds of times. Ever since you told me that you were gay.”

“Oh.”

Ron slipped his hand out from under Harry’s so that Harry was continuing to stroke him alone. “At first I was just sort of curious…you know, about how you’d go about actually, um, fucking someone. And, uh, I kind of got off thinking about it. And then I tried to talk Hermione into taking it up the arse—”

“Ron, please don’t tell me anything about your sex life with Hermione.”

“Oh, sorry. Anyway, that led to another row with her, but I’ve still kept thinking about it.” Ron kissed Harry again, hard and deep. “Why don’t you take off your pyjamas and start doing some of those things that straight blokes don’t like?”

Having drowned his better judgment with firewhisky, Harry ripped off his clothes and stretched out on top of Ron, resting most of his weight on his elbows, but making sure that their erections were touching. The skin contact was amazing, most of all because it was Ron. He ground his hips into Ron’s using a circular motion, and then, deciding that wasn’t quite enough contact, slipped his hand between their bodies and wrapped it around both of their cocks together. Ron was already panting, and Harry hadn’t even got to the good stuff yet.

Harry shifted again, this time straddling one of Ron’s legs and gently rutting against his thigh while licking all the way down Ron’s neck and chest and finally following the faint trail of red hair to the spot he wanted to lick most of all. He wondered if Hermione had done this to Ron but stopped that train of thought before it drove him crazy. Still, even if Hermione _had_ done this, it wouldn’t hurt for Harry to try to do it better.

After licking Ron’s cock several times from base to tip, Harry teased him by guiding it inside his mouth without it touching the sides and blowing hot air around the head. Still holding it steady with his hand, Harry flicked at the slit with his tongue a few times, gently nudging his foreskin. Once he heard Ron gasp in delight, he quickly wrapped his lips around it and sucked it inside his mouth, as far as he could take it without gagging.

Harry could hear a few incoherent words as he sucked Ron’s cock, one of which he thought might be his name, and another appeared to be ‘fuck’, so he gathered that Ron was, indeed, enjoying himself. When he thought Ron might be close, he stopped and kissed his way back up to Ron’s lips.

“All right, Ron?” whispered Harry as he ground their erections together again. He could feel Ron’s heart pounding beneath him.

“So good,” gasped Ron.

Harry had never thought that Ron would even consider doing any of this with him, and he began to worry that this would be his only chance to be with Ron like this. So he licked and sucked on Ron’s throat a few times before asking, “Do you want to fuck me?”

Ron’s eyes lit up. “Fuck, yes! Only I don’t really know—”

“I’ll tell you what to do. As long as you’re not going to hate me in the morning for talking you into having sex.”

Harry rolled off of Ron and leaned over to grab some lubricant. When he turned back, Ron was propped up on one elbow, staring at him incredulously.

“I could never hate you, Harry. No matter what – I won’t hate you. And God, look at you! You’re fucking gorgeous!”

Harry chuckled. “You don’t have to say that kind of stuff to me – I’m a bloke.”

“Oh, I don’t think I ever said anything like that to Hermione. It’s really true,” said Ron earnestly.

Harry blushed, torn between wanting to melt into a sentimental puddle of goo and moving past his embarrassment as quickly as possible by getting on with the sex. Not being good with emotions, he opted for the latter. Pulling Ron up onto his knees, he poured some of the lube into his own hand and also into Ron’s. He patiently showed Ron what to do, and then settled onto his back, bending his knees and spreading himself wide.

Ron was enthusiastic and perhaps a little less naïve than he let on, because he seemed to know exactly how to curl his fingers so that they’d rub Harry’s prostate over and over again. When he was good and stretched, Harry slicked up Ron’s cock and guided it to his entrance.

“You sure this won’t hurt you?” asked Ron nervously.

“Yeah, it’ll hurt a bit at first. But then it will feel amazing. Just go slow and I’ll be fine.”

Harry focused all of his energy on trying not to let Ron see how much he was hurting him, because he knew he’d be fine in a minute. Ron’s eyes were closed in concentration, but once he pushed all the way inside of Harry, he opened them. They shared a moment, where they were connected, body and soul. Then, with a small nod from Harry, Ron began to move.

Ron didn’t last very long, and when he came, his cry was loud enough to wake the neighbors. Harry wasn’t close yet, but he didn’t mind. He’d wanted it to be good for Ron, and as Ron slumped bonelessly across his chest reluctant to pull out of him, Harry had everything he needed.

Ron, apparently, had other ideas. After a minute or so, he seemed to return to the present, and he kissed Harry’s lips thoroughly. He pulled out of Harry, smiling. “Now I want to show you some things that straight blokes really like, too.”

Ron kissed his was across Harry’s chest, stopping at one of his nipples and tonguing it until it was stiff. With his thumb and finger, Ron tweaked the other one until it reacted the same way. Harry had never had his nipples played with like this, and he was amazed at how it made him crazy with lust.

“I’ve never tried this next thing before, but I know I like having it done to me,” Ron said. With a low hum, he kissed his way down Harry’s torso. Without any warning, he took Harry’s cock in his mouth, sucking vigorously while bobbing his head up and down.

Harry nearly passed out from the sudden stimulation. Once he realized what was happening, he began to move his hips to Ron’s rhythm, and he was unable to stop the moans as they flew from his throat. He bucked even harder when he felt Ron’s slick hand gently rolling his balls. Ron seemed to know exactly where to touch and how much pressure to apply, and Harry was on the edge of his climax in a very short time.

“Ron,” he panted, “I’ve gotta…”

But Ron didn’t move away. He wrapped his hand around the base of Harry’s cock and held it steady, while sucking even harder and faster. With a loud grunt, Harry spilled into Ron’s mouth.

Harry was hardly able to move, and when Ron crawled up to lie down beside him, Harry could only muster a small grin.

“That’s something I wouldn’t mind doing again,” muttered Ron into Harry’s ear. “Either most straight men don’t know what they’re missing, or I’m not quite as straight as I thought.

Harry closed his eyes again. “You can’t do it again. You’ve killed me. I don’t think I can move.”

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time,” Ron pointed out.

“God, no. It was brilliant. I never would have guessed you had such talent.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me,” Ron said with a smirk.

Harry summoned his wand and cleaned them up. “I don’t have the energy to put my pyjamas on. You’ll have to stay here to keep me warm.”

They snuggled together in the darkness, kissing and caressing occasionally. After several minutes, Ron said, “Thanks, Harry, for tonight. Even if it was just a pity fuck, it was exactly what I needed, and I feel much better.”

Harry looked askance at Ron. “It wasn’t a pity fuck. You know I don’t sleep around, and I’d never have let you fuck me if I didn’t care about you. I…” Harry cut himself off before the pesky “L” word escaped from his mouth like it was threatening to do. “I’d do anything for you.”

Ron answered him with a kiss and burrowed in a little tighter. “I’m glad that women aren’t anything like men,” Ron said, trying to hold back a yawn. “I think I’m going to try this for a while and see how it goes. ‘Zat all right?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. He pressed a kiss into Ron’s ginger hair. “It’s perfect.”


End file.
